


I just don't know what to do with myself

by zort



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Dancing, Feelings, Hospitals, Hotels, Injury, M/M, Physical Abuse, Talking, Touring, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse, relationships are hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zort/pseuds/zort
Summary: What happens when you add a Chris to a settled and happy and exclusive Jim and Mick.
Relationships: Chris Fehn/Jim Root, Jim Root/Mick Thomson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 14





	1. Just don't know

**Author's Note:**

> Written back in 2004... 16 years ago... before smartphones (which explains some bits of it)  
> Title obviously from the White Stripes.
> 
> Anyway, i'm gonna be posting the rest every other day since it's all written and my biggest problem is finding time.
> 
> The violence warning is for later, and this is shockingly smutless.

“Dance for me…”

James resisted the urge to gasp or show in any way that what he’d just said wasn’t entirely planned and completely normal. He even resisted the need to hide behind his hair as he knew from years of teasing that it would be a dead give away and he forced a nonchalant grin to his lips for good measure.

His band mate looked at him with narrowed eyes and then smirked.

“But of course, Jimmy. Will you play for me so that I have music to dance to?”

James nodded non-committally and leaned down on the bed to reach for his acoustic guitar. Then he looked up questioningly to his friend, still not trusting his voice to ask what melody he wanted to be played.

“Anything by the White Stripes.”

The guitarist nodded and plucked at the strings to tune the guitar in. Then he started playing.

Concentrating on getting the melody right, he failed to notice the song he had subconsciously picked up. When realisation dawned on him, he looked up to the other guy, a horrified look plastered on his face. But it quickly melted as he saw him already dancing to the melody, moving his stunning body at a lascivious, entrancing pace.

James bit his lips and kept playing _I just don’t know what to do with myself_ , cursing himself and his unconscious for giving so much away. As if the simple but meaningful request hadn’t already given him away. Or maybe it was the constant flirting. Or the fact that he just couldn’t take his eyes away from the dancing form.

He knew he was playing with fire. Even more so as his eyes locked into stunning blues and he identified the dare they were sparkling with. He gradually increased the rhythm of his playing and watched mesmerised as his friend swayed his hips in time with it, while taking his tee-shirt for a ride up.

The guitarist abruptly stopped playing, let go of his guitar and swiftly crossed the room to slam his band mate against the nearest wall. He growled ominously and dragged his tongue along the offered neck, playing with the idea of biting down viciously hard.

The other man let out a low purr and he felt hands settling on his hips making reality crash back around his ears.

He pulled himself away so quick he stumbled all the way back to his bed. When he looked up again, he found his friend staring at him with dark amusement and deep hurt fighting for across his face.

“Please, go away…”

He said it so softly, he was positive the other man hadn’t heard him, until he saw the taut chest rising and falling into a deep sigh.

James watched as his friend bent down to pick up his tee-shirt and put it back on as he walked towards the bedroom’s door. The door opened silently and he turned back to look at him.

“Mick’s a fucking lucky bastard…”

The door closed with a small click, snapping James out of the trance the last few words had put him into. Uselessly, he still whispered his answer to the empty room.

“I don’t know, Chris. I just don’t know.”


	2. Special Needs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, i wanted to post yesterday, but managed to give myself food poisonning... Anyway, have 2 chapters to make up for it.

  
James let out a contented breath and buried himself deeper in the strong embrace of his bed mate. His mind was blank, he couldn’t remember where he was, nor what day it was and it didn’t matter because he felt good, post-sex good to be precise which squared with the arms pleasantly weighing around his body.

He sighed again and let himself drift into a peaceful, dreamless state of half-sleep.

What brought him back, he would never know. But suddenly he wasn’t basking in the warmth of a very satisfying afterglow, nor even happily dozing off in the first decent bed since the beginning of the tour. His body gave a violent jerk, panic pooling in his stomach as he tried to get a hold of his racing mind.

After a few seconds of struggle, he regained control over his racing heart and erratic breath.

Eyes staring blindly into the darkness of the room, he gathered his thoughts and recapitulated the sequence of events that had lead him to where he was. As he suspected, it was even worse then it seemed when blurred by panic melting in slumber.

He gently pealed the long arms away from his body, careful not to disturb the sleeper. He quietly sat up in the bed, waiting for his eyes to accommodate in the darkness so that he could pick up his cloths. When he thought he saw enough he moved around, putting his tee-shirt and boxers back on as silently as possible, all the while listening to the deep breathing coming from the bed.

When he was satisfied he had picked up all his belongings, he crossed the room to the door. But there, instead of opening the door and guiltily sneaking out, he turned around to stare intently at the deeper shade of darkness that delineated the other man’s body on the bed. The respiration was still as deep as before, the man hadn’t even stirred.

As his hand closed on the door knob, he felt pain tighten inside him, making his throat so painful it irradiated up and felt like his head was going to explode. It was all his fault, his mistake, his fuck up.

Quickly, he pushed the door open and walked out, making sure to close it with the lowest possible click. Once in the brightly lit corridor, he let out the whimper he’d been keeping in and infinitely slowly started walking towards his appointed room.

Back in the room, Chris stopped fighting with his breathing, finally allowing it to become as ragged as it needed to be. Hopelessly he pulled the pillow against his body and curled around it in his usual, futile attempt to pretend James hadn’t walked out of the room again.


	3. Clash with reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - this is one the chapters that has explicit violence.

Chris never had a chance. He might as well have thrown himself under a train or attacked half a dozen bar brawlers, it would have made the fight a lot fairer than it actually was.

Of course, he didn’t see it coming. He was busy staring in the distance mulling over what was -or was not- going on between him and James, so the fist that connected painfully hard with his chest, took him completely by surprise.

He stumbled backwards, struggling not to fall flat on his ass when the second blow went straight to his jaw. It felt like his teeth shattered and he tasted blood where his tongue had been caught between them, probably the only thing that kept them from breaking.

Before he could do anything, there was another powerful punch to his face that sent him flying into the side of the tour bus. His head bumped on it with a sinister crack, white stars of pain exploded behind his eyelids, making him temporarily blind. His hands went automatically up to try and give useless protection to his face, leaving the rest of him completely unprotected.

Then, a foot crashed into his left knee, effectively bringing me down and open for the following kick that landed into his unprotected ribs which brought him down on the ground with an inarticulate gurgle of pain and blood.

Chris had no idea what was happening, he could only think of one thing : curl up into the tighter ball he could manage so try and survive the assault.

Then just as suddenly as they had started, the blows stopped raining. At first, he refused to believe it, but as the only sound that reached him was that of a laboured breathing, he decided maybe it was now safe to investigate.

Mick was standing next to him, glaring down ominously.

The percussionist fought with himself not to cower, but unable to keep his body from flinching at the look. He would have wanted to speak, maybe to defend himself, but he just couldn’t find the words. Besides his tongue seemed to have doubled size and he probably wouldn’t even have been able to say anything anyway.

Mick’s eyes narrowed and this time Chris couldn’t repress the cowering. Fortunately instead of punching, Mick started talking.

“Don’t you dare say anything to me, you fucker, or trust me this will feel like a pleasant memory ! Don’t you fucking dare coming near my guy ever again ! And don’t even think you can blame it on him…” There Mick’s look softened somewhat, as if something had hurt him. “I know how he is…”

And then, he turned round and walked away. Chris watched is retreating back wondering what exactly he meant with knowing what Jim was like.


	4. Outta Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next part, angst ahead!

James’s heart gave a nasty jerk when he recognised the distinct sound of somebody angrily trying to open the hotel door and obviously messing it up. He was most certainly not going to go help Mick with the damn cardkey, but he was also desperately conscious that any second of Mick failing to enter was another second the big guy got to work himself up even more.  
  
In the end, he had to give in and go open the hotel door or, by the sound of Mick’s swearing and violent fight with the door, they would have had to pay for a broken door on top of annoyed fellow costumers.  
  
They stared at each other in the doorway, for a short eternity, before James turned around and padded back to the bed he’d been sitting on, looking like the human embodiment of the dog that held its tail between its legs.  
  
Refusing to look at his lover anymore, he listened as the door clicked shut. Heavy footsteps made their way into the room, until he could see the familiar, worn-out Doc Martens settle approximately opposite to his own bare feet. He resisted the urge to look up and plead with Mick’s steely blue eyes.  
  
“You said-”  
  
“I _know_ what I said Mick… I…” His voice failed him.  
  
“Don’t you fucking dare say it! You’re not fucking sorry Jim! You’re a fucking slut and everybody knows it!”  
  
If shoes could look angry then James knew they would look just like the Doc Martens he was staring at. The words hurt, they had always hurt, but it was the first time they hurt because they were true.  
  
“Maybe I’m a slut, Mick, but is that enough of a reason to send Chris to the hospital with an almost busted knee-cap?”  
  
There was a fleeting moment of hesitation where Mick’s anger seem to waver in the room.  
  
“I… But… He… s-said he was attacked by fucking self-righteous fundies!”  
  
“Look, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not stupid! I saw the looks you gave him for the past few weeks, so don’t even try to bullshit me! The others can believe whatever they want, but you and I know better!”  
  
Suddenly, Mick’s hands were grabbing his wrists, pushing him back on the bed and pinning them above his head. Then the broad guy kneeled on top of him, effectively trapping him between his body and the bed. Blue eyes locked into green, a low, ominous growl thundered through the body on top of his.  
  
“And who’s fucking fault is it anyway? Who, in the four fucking years that we’ve been together, has been fucking around with everything that ever roamed the fucking earth? Who has been sneaking back into our bed two nights ago, and every other night for the past three months?”  
  
With each accusation Mick’s voice grew softer, almost as if he was afraid of what the words could do to them. James sighed deeply, before answering softly.  
  
“And who’s been driving me mad from unfounded jealousy all these years?”  
  
In Mick’s eyes, anger was losing its battle against hurt and hopelessness. James leaned up and whispered against his lover’s lips.  
  
“We’re not perfect, but are we done?”  
  
The only answer he ever got was Mick’s tongue carefully lining his, seeking entrance.


	5. Still Loving You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - This one also has violence.

Stepping out of his sweat-soaked jumpsuit, Chris unhooked the last buckle of his mask and pulled off the bondage hood that constituted his mask, allowing himself to breath properly for the first time in three hours.

Oblivious to the eyes that roamed his naked form, he tiredly raked his nails against his sweaty scalp and started walking towards the derelict bathroom adjoining the dressing room. His knee was killing him and he wished for nothing more than a long, hot shower and a nice welcoming bed, possibly a back massage too if he could talk Paul into giving him one.

Still stroking his scalp, he turned the water on as hot as possible and waited until he was sure it was hot to step under the warm spray. The hot droplets felt almost like fingers kneading the stress away from his body, almost but not quite. He sighed deeply, wishing he could wash his troubles as easily as his body.

With the water splashing noisily on the bathroom’s tiled floor, he didn’t hear the door clicking shut, nor the distinctive noise made by bare feet padding on tiles.

Suddenly, hands snaked across his chest and pulled him backwards against another, taller body. Fingers started stroking his wet skin. A warm tongue lined the shell on his ear, teeth grazed gently.

Chris let his body melt into the touch, knowing full well he should have done the exact opposite. He closed his eyes and grinded his ass against the other man’s crotch, eliciting a low groan and a playful nip at his ear lobe. Then, instead of pulling away, like his reason was screaming at him to do, he throttled his reason, lifted his hands up to pull James head down so that he could crash their lips together. And for a blissful second, nothing mattered other than those lips, that tongue, those fingers, that body.

They jumped in unison as the bathroom door was violently slammed shut. James pulled away swiftly and looked behind them while Chris squeezed his eyes shut fighting the urge to scream.

“M-m-mick… I… I c-can...”

“Shut up! Shut up, Jim, or I’ll make you shut up! I want to talk to that filthy whore I thought was my friend there!”

Chris jerked himself away from James and, in spite of his knee's protests, spun around to face Mick and his wrath, just in time for Mick to grab him by the neck and violently push him back against the wall of the shower, the taps digging painfully into the small of his back. Mick’s fingers squeezed viciously keeping him from breathing.

“I thought you were my fucking friend, Fehn. And what do you do, each time I fucking turn my fucking back? I’m hurt ! I’m fucking hu-”

The broad guy never got to finish his sentence because James grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away from Chris.

“Leave him the fuck alone, Mick! This is between you and me! If you want to beat somebody up, then take up somebody your own fucking size!”

With a thunderous growl, Mick swung himself back at James, unbalancing the tall guitarist and making him fall backwards. As if on slow motion, Chris saw James falling, until his head crashed against the tiled wall with the sickening sound of an egg being broken.

After a second of complete stillness, Chris threw himself across the bathroom to check on him, half expecting to see blood pooling around the guy’s head. Instead, he found James blinking tentatively, eyes completely unfocused but apparently fine. He was about to ask when Mick broke down in hiccupping sobs. James smiled sadly and seemed to half-focus on his face.

“Chris, d’you think you could leave us alone?”

“I… yeah, no problem...”

He pulled himself up carefully and walked out of the bathroom, hoping that maybe, with a bit of luck, the two would finally straighten their shit out. 


	6. Killers are quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, sorta plot twist and aaaaangst!

“GET YOUR SORRY ASSES OUT RIGHT THIS SECOND, WE’RE FUCKING GOING!”

Shawn’s voice and impatient knocking echoed through the hotel room as Mick walked out of the bathroom. He dropped his razor into the mess that was his bag and looked around to check on James.

The other guitarist was sitting on their bed, head cradled between his arms, shaking slightly. Instantaneously Mick was kneeling in front of him and prying his arms open.

“Hey… how’s your head?”

James firmly resisted the fingers that tried to push his face up, keeping the barrier of his hair between them.

“My head’s fine...”

Mick blinked in surprise, he hadn’t expected the bitterness of the answer. They’d had a lengthy talk two days ago when he’d found his lover tangled around Chris and he thought they’d reached an agreement, that he would try and keep his jealousy under control while James would stop sleeping with the other man. Since then, it had felt like they’d fallen for each other all over again and he simply couldn’t fathom why James sounded so harsh.

“You heard the Clown then, Jim, we gotta go.”

He pulled himself up and was starting towards their bag when the whisper reached his ears.

“I can’t go, Mick. Everything’s a blur… I don’t even know which shadow is supposed to be you…”

Mick felt his whole body freeze to the core, he had no idea what was going on but he knew it was his fault because in his jealous rage he’d made James’s head crash violently against a wall, two days ago. He turned around to go and help, but the whisper stopped him again.

“Go away, Mick. I don’t want you now. Please, go get Paul for me and leave me alone.”

Unable to find his voice, Mick nodded, realising belatedly that even if James had been looking in his direction he couldn’t have seen him. So he groaned softly and stomped through the room, not wanting to give in to the panic he could feel pooling in his guts..

Ironically, luck was on his side again as soon as he walked out of the room, as he almost bumped into the bassist he was looking for.

“Paul! There’s- Jim… needs you… please ?”

He’d never know how he managed not to choke on his words, or why his body insisted on maintaining such a cold facade when his mind was turning into complete chaos. Mechanically, he turned around and walked away doing as his lover had asked.


	7. Boys don't cry

Chris was still baffled that Shawn had missed the wave of terror that washed over him when he was told to go get Mick while Shawn and Paul took James to the nearest hospital. To be honest, he had no idea why he was actually doing what the Clown had asked instead of, say… finding a nice little hole to hide into.  
  
He sighed and pushed the door that created a screen of privacy into the bunk section of their second tour bus. He’d already gone through all their rooms in the hotel, the hotel bar, the roof top, the stairs and one of their tour buses. And now, he was starting to be just a bit worried that he wasn’t going to find Mick, because Mick had gone and done something stupid, and he would have to tell James and he was going to ruin things even worse.  
  
Shaking his head, he eyed the bunks. None of them had their curtains drawn, so it was safe to assume that Mick wasn’t hiding there. Chris’s breathing caught slightly in his throat and he had to make an effort to push the panic as far back as he could. After all, he still had to check the bus’s back room.  
  
When he finally reached the back of the bus, he found Mick sitting by the rear window, immobile and staring out unblinkingly. Relief shortly pooled in his guts before more panic drowned him again, at least Mick hadn’t done anything stupid… yet.  
  
Fairly sure that he was the last person the broad guy wanted to see, Chris tried feverishly to figure out what he should do now.  
  
“Fuck off, Chris…” The quiet voice startled him, last time he’d faced Mick quietness had definitely not been on the agenda.  
  
“Can’t. M’supposed to tell you Shawn and Paul brought Jim to the hospital and to ask you what happened.” He stayed as far away from Mick as the small space would allow.  
  
Mick let out a small, mirthless laugh. “You already know what happened, I hurt him… because of you. Just fuck off.”  
  
Chris’s eyes narrowed. Of course he was far from innocent, but he really didn’t care for the self-righteousness he could hear in Mick’s voice.  
  
“You _do_ realise you’ve been hurting him for way longer than that, don’t you? You _know_ you basically pushed him in my bed, right?” Mick let out a dangerous grunt, but Chris was getting worked up. “Do you realise just how you’ve made him feel? How could you torture him like that? You know he’s not all that self-confident, how could you accuse him of all those things? How could you be so fucking blind?”  
  
Mick literally snarled at him. “Oh so you’re the knight in fucking white armour here? You had to jump in bed with him, because big bad me was terrorising little, innocent Jimmy?”  
  
“YOU FUCKER! How can you fucking say things like that and then keep saying that you fucking love him?”

Chris forced himself to calm down and breathed deeply a few times. “No, I didn’t want to save him, I just wanted to make him feel good, because unlike you some of us _do_ love him…”

He swirled around and swiftly walked away before Mick could do more than gasp in surprise.


	8. Don't fear the reaper

Mick sat against the wall of the hospital, eyes lost in the contemplation of the parking lot in front of him where cars and ambulances endlessly came and went, indirect witnesses of uncountable human tragedies. He was trying, rather ineptly, to pretend that his own personal tragedy was not taking place a few stories away from where he was sitting.

James’s eyes had been operated on the day before and he was supposed to be released sometime the following day, because the docs wanted to make sure he wouldn’t take off the bandages too early. They said he had been lucky that they could operate him straight away, because waiting any longer would have resulted in permanent damage to his sight.

He pulled his legs up to his body, as if making himself smaller could somehow alleviate the pain.

He’d fucked everything up, he knew it. James hated him now and there was only one way out of it. He couldn’t even bring himself to go see James because he was too chicken shit to face the words the other guitarist would inevitably throw at him. And as long as nothing had been said it was somewhat easier to pretend that everything was peachy.

Sighing deeply, he raked his scalp with his fingernails, trying to take his mind away from the situation with his usual pathetic success rate. He squeezed his eyes shut and pounded his head against the wall a few times, welcoming the pain and disorientation for the short relief it provided.

When he reopened his eyes, Chris was standing in front of him glaring at him meaningfully. Now, he wouldn’t even need to go and see James, he would be told right there and then that he didn’t need to show his ugly face ever again.

“You plan on going to see Jim anytime soon?”

The broad guitarist blinked stupidly as the implications held in his band mate’s question slowly sunk in. He wasn’t sure he liked it, and even less so the fact that it was Chris talking to him.

“Thought I’d told you fuck off, Fehn!”

“I know… But I can’t do that.” He shook his head. “If I did what you wanted you’d be fucking liable to break both Jim’s and your heart by doing something probably exceedingly dramatic and totally useless.”

Mick frowned and grunted ominously, thinking that after some of the exchanges they’d had in the last few months Chris could easily be scared off. Chris did flinch on the not-so-implicit threat, but he did not back off and even he extended his hand to the sitting guy.

“Come on! Get up! You gotta talk to Jim and you’re gonna talk to him now!”

Refusing the hand, Mick pushed himself up and towered over Chris with all his bulk.

“Why d’you do that? I thought you’d be happy to reap the fruit of your sluttish, treacherous labour…”

Chris winced at the harsh tone. “Fuck you, Thomson! Jim’s not as pure and innocent as you’d like to believe, but he loves you... only you… And you’re going to go talk to him, even if I have to break your legs to drag you up there!”

Mick was too stunned to escape the hand that grabbed his wrist with a force he hadn’t expected from Chris. He was finally dragged in the hospital to face a destiny that suddenly did not look so bad.


	9. Lose yourself

James heard the door shut with a sort of meek click. He’d never noticed just how telling sounds could be until his eyes had stopped focusing and he’d have to rely on his other senses while he hoped his eyes would get back to normal.

They didn’t, not by themselves anyway, which had led him into this particular hospital room. And the reason why he’d needed the operation was leaving the room.

He knew if he could have seen his band mate his shoulders would have been slumped and his back would have been staring at him with puppy dog’s eyes. It was the first time in two days that he didn’t miss his eyes.

He sighed deeply.

A grim bitterness was taking hold of his heart while he knew that realistically he had every reason to be happy. He wasn’t going to turn blind after all. He wouldn’t even have to wear glasses with a stronger correction. He was successful and happy in his chosen career. He was in love and he knew he was loved in return. Everything was as good as it could ever get.

So why was he feeling so bad?

He thought back to the conversation he’d just had. He’d had way too many in-depth conversations these last few days and this would hopefully be the last one of this particular series. He knew he wasn’t exactly a good person, but he lived a lot better when the fact wasn’t constantly rubbed in his face.

_“But I love you!”_

The words still whirled in his head and still he failed to see what the hell that had to do with anything. On this occasion love couldn’t win, because this love just wouldn’t bring the happily ever after like it was supposed to.

_“Please don’t do that to me…”_

James shook his head. He could even picture those blue eyes, uselessly pleading with his bandaged ones. And he could still feel the rough fingers gradually losing their hold on his hand as it became clear he wasn’t going to change his mind.

He choked back a sob.

Of course he loved Mick, but he’d never thought putting things straight between him and Chris could hurt so much. It was almost as if by kicking the percussionist away, he'd ripped half his heart out of his body.


	10. Friday, I'm in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is unexpectedly fluffy and there's all of one part left after this.

“I missed your eyes… “  
  
“Yeah, right. I know you say that to all the guys when trying to get into their pants!”  
  
“I’m _already_ in your pants.”  
  
“No, you’re n…” James let out a throaty moan.   
  
“What were you saying?” Mick grinned smugly, and repeated his previous action a little more roughly with pretty much the same reaction from James.  
  
Somehow, it felt like he was suddenly re-acquainted with a long lost lover, while in fact the break – if it could even been qualified as such – had lasted for less than four days, two of which James had spent in an hospital. Still, in a very real sense, everything had changed.   
  
Mick couldn’t exactly pinpoint it, but he knew deep down that they had finally broke out of their previous relationship. They were still together and, as far as he was concerned, he loved James as much as ever and probably even slightly more, but things weren’t like before.  
  
He bent down and gently licked James’s lips, silently searching for more. As James softly sucked on his tongue, Mick gradually increased the rhythm of his fingers. James’s fingers tangled in his long hair, making him feel safe and at home like it always did.   
  
He became lost in the kiss, wanting nothing more than for it to last for ever and ever so that he would never have to face the things the recent event had brought to the surface. But after too short a time, James pulled away and their eyes locked together.  
  
“I’m sorry, love, I don’t think I’m up for more…” He gave an apologetic smile.  
  
Mick smiled warmly.   
  
“Don’t worry, we’ve got the rest of our lives for this stuff…” His voice cracked somewhat at the end and he had to take a deep breath before he could ask in a hesitant whisper. “We _do_ have the rest of our lives, don’t we ?”  
  
Some unidentified feeling flashed through James’s green eye. It was something Mick had seen a few times before but he had never been able to name it, now though he could recognise it as the trace of what had finally broken between them. But before he could try and pry, the taller guitarist had engulfed him in a tight hug.  
  
“Yes, Mick, we do.” And then so soft, Mick almost thought he’d imagined it. “God knows I love you.”


	11. Part of me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the last one, sorry for the delay i lost the internet for a while.

His heart beating like he had just run a marathon and his breathing ragged, James grabbed the other man’s shoulder and roughly pushed him against the nearest wall. Then he all but tore through his own mask in order to at least partly unrestrict his lips and aggressively attached them to the pulse point on his band mate’s neck.

There was a surprised groan followed by a low purr that made the skin he was sucking on vibrate. His hands started fumbling nimbly with the various straps on the other's mask as shaking fingers fought with the zip of his jumpsuit.

Finally managing to get rid of the mask, James threw it over his shoulder and attacked the still grease painted lips he’d finally revealed. Hands were now roaming over his sweaty chest making him writhe and shudder under the expert touch. He pushed their bodies together closer and sucked tersely on the tongue that was exploring his mouth.

After a small eternity of frantic kissing and groping, he finally pulled away and surveyed the pain that was slowly glazing over the blue. Gently, he bent down and softly kissed the man’s cheek.

“Sshhh… I’m not toying with you Chris…”

The percussionist let out a mirthless snigger. “Then what about Mick?”

“I love him… but I want you too. Will you give yourself to me?”

At the words, something flashed through the man’s blue eyes, something James had thought he’d never see again. A need more profound and more innocent than what he’d ever had with Mick, and he craved for that sparkle which he knew his lover would never be able to give.

The blue eyes shut and James felt fear tightly coil inside his guts. The silence was getting too long. He was going to lose it, lose Chris. Of course, he would still have Mick and the situation would be far less fucked up, but he needed Chris like his lungs needed oxygen.

The words came before the eyes reopened, making James feel like he was dreaming them.

“You know you already own me…”

James let out a small growl of joy and quickly attacked the percussionist’s lips again. Then, as suddenly as it had started, he wrenched himself away and walked to the dressing room he was sharing with Mick.

Chris watched the retreating back, wondering darkly if he hadn’t just signed his soul over to the devil. He shrugged. He was not particularly afraid for his soul, but Mick did pack a powerful punch and he’d rather not be on the receiving end again, ever.

Eventually, he collected himself and walked to his own dressing room. Paul was already there, naked to the waist, washing the grease paint from his face. Chris grinned and silently crossed the room. When he was behind the bassist, he trailed a finger along the protruding bones of Paul’s spinal cord making his back arch like that of a cat.

“Feeling needy?”

Instead of answering Chris replaced his fingers by his lips and trailed kisses up Paul’s sweaty back. The bassist purred softly.

“Fucking A, Fehn!”

Before he could do anything, Chris was dragged out of the room by a fuming guitarist and ended up propped up against the wall of the corridor again, except this time it wasn’t James who was pinning him there. Mick was glaring icily at him, Chris tried to reign in his panic and produced a soft, questioning sound rather than a full-fledged question.

“You better treat Jim right, Fehn, or you’re gonna be sorry for it!” With that he turned around and stomped away.

Chris put a hand on his racing heart and let out a shaky breath. He’d always known letting himself fall for James was a bad idea, but now he wasn’t sure any more what was the most dangerous : fucking Jim or not fucking him…

[the end]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thanks for reading it all. I remember writing it was a rollercoaster, and i hadn't expected for it to get so long (when it's reeeeeeaaaaally not that long). And i'm kinda sorry that most of those parts rely so heavily on not naming anyone, it clearly was a thing i loved back then.
> 
> I did research the bit about Jim's eyes, so yeah you could unexpectedly lose your sight after hitting your head hard enough and yeah surgery can help.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me : [incredizort](https://incredizort.tumblr.com/)


End file.
